A Soundtrack for Sorrow

Music has a profound way of evoking emotions and drawing out the sorrow I feel every day.  I’ve been listening to a band called Hammock who produce some of the most melancholy yet oddly comforting sounds I’ve ever heard.  They’ve become the soundtrack to my evenings.  I listen to them through the noise-canceling Bose headphones I bought for Jason so he could try to sleep through his long flights to China.  They have a song called “The Air Between Us” and it makes me wish that was all separating me from Jason.   I’ve been able to hear little nuances in their songs that can’t be heard through a car stereo or a laptop.  I know Jason would appreciate Hammock if he were here, where he should be.

It will be 8 months since the last morning I saw him and don’t let anyone fool you.  This doesn’t become easier with time so don’t expect today to be easier than yesterday.  In fact I feel worse now than I did 4 months ago.  I know it’s just the house settling.  I keep being told just tough out the first year and it will eventually become more manageable.  But it certainly doesn’t feel like it when you are in the thick of it and can’t see past this moment.

I miss him with an intensity I never knew was possible.   Sometimes I think it might make my heart stop, and sometimes I wish for that to happen just so I could join him.

I bought my iron-on letters for my “2014 Can Suck It” shirt and then I thought maybe I should also add “Fuck Cardiac Arrhythmia” on the back…but that seems kind of busy.  I thought I’d be working on 5k fundraiser runs in his memory and training for the Raleigh Rock n’ Roll half marathon by now, but the energy just isn’t there.  Going to work and holding myself together and trying to act normal even though I feel far from normal is the best I can do right now.  In some ways I feel like I am letting him down and I don’t want anyone to forget him, but for now I just need to focus on remembering him for myself.


3 thoughts on “A Soundtrack for Sorrow

  1. I continue to appreciate your posts. Many of them resonate deeply, as does this one. 8 months. I am (was? It’s still hard to use past tense!) younger than my husband by several years. I suspected that someday he might die before me, but that day seemed far in the future. I knew it would be terrible and hard, but your words “I miss him with an intensity I never knew was possible.” are so true. I don’t think it’s easier 8 months out. In some ways it is harder because the awful truth of it just keeps going deeper and deeper. Also, on the outside I look somewhat like my old normal self. But I’m not, and I’ll never be that person again. Be gentle with yourself. You have the rest of your life to remember him with others. (I hope that comes across OK via the written word and doesn’t sound crass/harsh.) From what you’ve said about him, it seems he would want you to take care of you most of all. I’ll be thinking of you.
    p.s. – I’m appreciating my mental image of your t-shirt. I’m with you.


    1. The truth does continue to seep in and fill in the remaining cracks, and usually causes new cracks in the facade as well. I put so much effort into trying to be my old self around my friends and coworkers and it becomes exhausting. I don’t want to make anyone else uncomfortable so I spend the evening being uncomfortable myself. And as you said, we are not the same selves we were before “it” happened. I’ve been hibernating until some of the melancholy lightens up.
      I am sure I will do a post about the shirt and include a picture. I’m going to make one for a friend that says “Fuck Cancer” since it killed her mother.


  2. Yes 9 months for me and I agree…it feels more difficult than 4 months ago. Like you said I think everything is starting to settle and I am feeling his absence more and more.


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